


The Beginning

by Spera_via



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9321842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spera_via/pseuds/Spera_via
Summary: The eye opening, and personality altering experience of the Agent Tris'tio. Some things effect us so profoundly, they change who we really are.





	1. Chapter 1

“What the hell happened out there?!” Sevens hissed. He yanked off his helmet and tossed it angrily at the interior of the dead star ship. Trist watched it bounce off the wall and roll across the floor. Silently, he picked it up as his comrade raged on. “Routine scouting? They knew something Good Doctor! How else could a squad of troopers have surprised a stealthed scouting party?”

2057, or Tris'tio as he knew himself to be, gave his peer a stern look and tapped the side of his helmet. A warning was masked in the words he spoke.

“Do you think we should call for help?” He asked quietly. Sevens sobered, looking between Trist’ finger, still touching the temple of his helmet, to his face. 

“No.” He said gruffly. “No, that won’t be necessary.” 

Both cadets froze as they heard voices. Without another word, Trist tossed Sevens his newly cracked helmet. They activated their stealth generators and tip-toed deeper into the mighty skeleton.


	2. 1

“This is to be a routine scouting mission.” The Commander had said. He was a man that Trist looked up to. Everything a Chiss should be; calm, cool, collected. Everything that the cadets wanted to be. The Commander paced before them, shined shoes clicking smartly as he moved, motioning to the planet floating behind him. “Republic forces are seen coming and going from the Starship Graveyard on Hoth. Your mission is to find their motive and report details of the scouting parties... You are not to engage them at any cost.” 

He stopped in front of the planet. An impressive move, seeing as the glowing light from behind him made The Commander look imposing. Important. 

“I hope I do not have to remind you that this will be your final evaluation, before you move onto more advanced studies.” He had said to the four cadets before him. They stiffened at the mention of it. “I also hope, that I do not have to remind you that this will determine your eligibility for future employment.” Trist remembered him pausing to look at each of them. Bright eyes had bored into theirs. 

“Part of your evaluation will be on how well you prepare for the mission. Therefore you have access to the entire armory. Do use it wisely.” He paused for a long moment before continuing.

“Once you have finished gearing up, you will be transported to Hoth by Stealth Fighter. We will pick you up at the rendezvous point, once you have activated the beacon. Am I understood?”

“Yes Sir!” The cadets chorused. 

“Dismissed then.” 

As one, the four turned to leave. 

“Cadet 2057.” Trist stopped and turned, looking at The Commander, a polite and curious expression on his face. He remembered the sound of the the doors sliding closed behind him as his peers continued on their way. How his heart pounded in his chest.

“You’re to be the field medic, are you not?” The Commander asked. 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Hm.”

They stood in silence before The Commander nodded. 

“Keep them alive, will you? Dismissed.”

“Yes Sir.”

Trist turned and nearly ran into the door before it slid open for him. Doing is best not to turn violet in front of The Commander, he hurried out of the room.

“Hey Good Doctor, what did the General want?” The largest of the cadets called out from his place next to the explosives. Trist had earned the nickname for, often times, being the only one to rush forward with a medpack in the middle of a fight. “Did you get your chance to confess your love for the man?” The cadet who had a proficiency in everything that detonated, was nicknamed Torchy. 

“Does it matter?” The only woman in the group snapped. Trist, who had opened his mouth to answer, closed it and moved passed her as Torchy yelled back. She was cleaning a sniper rifle, her hands gentle despite the irritation on her face. 

“I was just asking a question C-53.” 

Trist stopped next to knife case and opened it. He looked up as Sevens moved next to him and pulled out a few of the blades, testing their balance. Questions burned in Sevens’ eyes, but he shrugged when they went unanswered. Without speaking, the two went back to arming themselves. 

There was a yelp and a bang. Trist and Sevens ducked behind the cases, covering their ears as C-53 began to curse vehemently.

“A flashbang?! What the hell is wrong with you!”

“It'll stop burning in a second! I promise!”

“A scouting mission.” Sevens’ words were almost indistinguishable from the commotion around them. “Does that seem a bit… easy to you?” 

Trist glanced at the other Cadet and frowned. The two looked over the cases as the cursing stopped to see Torchy grinning at C-53. She glared at him before tightening her ponytail and turning back to her work.


	3. 2

Trist blinked and saw the outline of Sevens leaning against a turned over desk. 

“Here.” He said, stepping forward and pulling out a surgical probe. “Let me help.”

Sevens said nothing but nodded and quickly opened his armor. Knowing better than to wince at the sight of burned skin, Trist quickly set the surgical probe to use before bandaging a kolto pack to the wound. 

“That should help for now.” He said as he stepped away. 

“We need to make a plan.” Sevens told him, his voice harsh. His fingers worked quickly as he strapped his armor back on. “If they know we’re out there, we can’t proceed as if it’s just a normal scouting mission.” He spat on the floor. 

“Okay.” Trist said, taking off his helmet for the first time. He kneeled on the floor and cleared the glass and debris in front of him with a sweep of his arm. “Grab some steel and let’s make a plan.”

Sevens removed his helmet too, grabbed a sharp bit of broken hull, and joined his comrade on the floor. The sounds of their whispers and steal against steel sang quietly around them.


	4. 3

“In your helmets,” One of their teachers said to them, “are comms so you can communicate with each other.” The turbulence shook the ship, though none aboard were phased by it. Trist and C-53 exchanged glances. They would put money down that whatever was going to be said within earshot of the helmets’ microphones would be transmitted back to their evaluators. Their teacher pretended not to notice and continued on. “Your beacons are in your holocomms. Standard procedure for activation.”

The pilot of the ship rumbled over the comm that they were approaching drop off. Their teacher ushered them to the doors.

Before Trist and his peers had realized, they were standing in the snow, arms thrown up to protect their eyes against the sun reflecting off the ice. The sound of the ship’s engines faded into the distance. 

“The snow will make vanishing difficult.” C-53 said haughtily, brushing her ponytail off of her shoulder and unhooking her rifle. 

“Well good thing you don’t have to vanish.” Torchy snapped back. Trist and Sevens traded a look. 

“Well if you think-”

“Let’s go.” Seven’s orders cut through their banter. “C-53 we need you scouting. Torchy, Good Doctor, if we try to focus on staying on metal, we should be able to cover our footprints.”

“The wind is good here.” Torchy added seriously. “It should help cover our tracks if we stay in the middle of the gusts.” 

Sevens nodded and the four seemed to move as one. As Sevens, Trist, and Torchy vanished, C-53 sprinted forward. In no time, she had scaled a steel mountain and pressed herself into the snow.

There was a pause before she signaled them. Sevens and Torchy stepped forward, cautiously, weapons at the ready. Trist waited a few heartbeats before following, his eyes scanning in front and behind them for threats. 

They moved like that for a while. C-53 sprinting ahead as they passed, vanishing at the base of a shipwreck before reappearing on top of it, signaling if the way was clear or if there were obstacles to avoid.

However, as they passed under steel and through gales that tried to throw them off their feet, there was no sight of any scouting party. Trist frowned in his mask at that thought. 

Surely they should have heard something by now. If the debriefing was to be trusted in any case.


	5. 4

Trust No One.

Trist felt his pace slow, then stop. 

“Sevens,” He said slowly. “Torchy…”

They stopped and turned to look at him.

“You noticed it too?” C-53 asked them over the comm. Her voice was laced with uncertainty. For once, Torchy didn’t attempt to banter with her. 

Sevens looked between Trist and Torchy, his posture stiff. A grave air settled over them. A gust swirled past.

“We’ve stayed in one place too long.” Sevens told them, his voice calm. He glanced at C-53 who signaled another all clear before nodding at her. “Let’s move.”

No one objected. Instead, C-53 vanished from her spot as they moved forward. A gentle breeze blew the snow around their ankles.

“Did you hear that?” Torchy asked suddenly. Sevens and Trist stopped and looked at him. They stood in silence listening intently. Nothing, then a scuffle over their comms. 

“C-53?” Sevens asked, his tone demanding. The scuffling continued, then more silence. Sevens tried again. “C-53? Report!” 

The three cadets traded worried looks. 

“C-53! Report!” Sevens ordered again.

“We have to go find her.” Torchy said when silence answered the order. “Something is wrong. She wouldn’t just stop answering.”

Sevens watched Torchy for a long moment before turning to look at Trist. 

“What do you think Good Doctor?” He asked slowly. Trist rubbed his chin as he thought. Torchy shifted irritably. 

“Why are we waiting?” He snapped. “Tell him we need to look for her Good Doctor!”

Sevens continued to study Trist, his expression hidden behind his helmet.

“We should check it out.” Trist concluded. “For a few reasons. If she had fallen into a trap, it would behoove us to at least observe what happened, so we can avoid it.”

“How can you be so cal-”

“Also,” Trist cut cleanly through Torchy’s exclamation, “She would do the same for any of us.” 

Sevens nodded at him before touching his forehead, thinking. 

“Alright, we will head to C-53’s last known location. Still keep your eyes out for that Republic Party. We can’t let this Search and Rescue be a complete waste of time.” 

Torchy and Trist nodded before falling in behind Sevens as he stepped forward. 

The search went slow. The wind blew snow over the edges of any tall thing that C-53 might have been on and many times they had to push snow aside or dig to see if they had found the spot. It was nerve-wracking work, each taking turns to look out for the group or dig for their partner.

The sun was starting to sink when Sevens gestured to the base of a broken wing.

“There.” His voice was quiet, reserved. Trist and Torchy turned, breath catching in their chests. 

C-53 sat below the wing, her hair loose around her shoulders. When they approached they could see the red glow of her eyes under half opened lids, expression blank.

“C-53!” Torchy called. He ran over to her and fell to his knees, spraying snow into her lap. She didn’t move. Torchy broke stealth touched her shoulder. “Cee?” He asked softly. Still no response. “Siiya?!” He turned to Trist, eyes wild. Both Trist and Sevens broke stealth as well, watching the scene, grief and disbelief slumping their shoulders. 

“Good Doctor!” Torchy called, scrambling over to Trist and grabbing the front of his armor. “You- you can save her right?” He asked. 

“Torchy…”

“You can do something, can’t you? Fix her? Make her move?” He shook Trist. “Do something Good Doctor!”

“Torchy.” Trist said quietly. “She’s dead.” 

Torchy seemed to freeze, his grip tightening on the armor. In a sudden motion, he pushed Trist away, ignoring how the other cadet stumbled to catch his balance, and turned back to the dead girl. He gripped her by the shoulders and shook her.

“Get up.” He demanded. “Get up. You have a job to do.”

“Torchy. She’s…” Trist began. “Rigor Mortis has set in.” Torchy turned back to him. 

“You don’t know anything.” He snapped. “She’s just playing with us… just....” 

Sevens moved forward then, stopping next to Torchy and slapping him across the face.  
“Snap out of it Cadet.” He said firmly. “We have a job to do.”

Torchy opened his mouth to respond, but his answer was cut off by something landing in the snow around them.

The three cadets looked at it as it beeped innocently, before scrambling to move. Trist dived out of the way, rolling in the snow as Sevens tackled Torchy.

An explosion shook the ground around them and threw snow over their heads. Trist pulled out a kolo injector and aimed it for Torchy who was groaning. Sevens was already on his feet, stealthed and crouched. Armored Republic troopers seemed to flood around them, all shouting. 

Trist fired and relief flooded Torchy’s face. He gave the medic a thumbs up before grabbing a grenade and lobbing it at a cluster of of the troopers. They yelled out and dived away, giving Torchy time to move. 

Sevens had not been idle. He was moving between the troopers stunning and disabling them. A ghost in the snow. 

Trist blinked, shook his head and picked himself up from the ground, weaving amongst the commotion and sending kolto when and where he could. 

This worked well for them until he heard Torchy grunt in pain and Sevens yell: “Get down!” 

A force slammed into him, tackling him into the snow. Face full of white, Trist could only hear the sound of a blaster cannon and the dull sound of bolts cutting into armor. 

“We need to move!” Sevens shouted in his ear. Trist barely registered the fact that he was getting pulled to his feet. He could see Torchy’s giant outline, smoking against the dying light. 

He shook his head and stealthed himself. Sevens was already moving a few feet away. They ducked behind the ribs of a starship, catching their breath and listening for their pursuers. 

“Where did they go?” A trooper demanded.

“Spread out. They can’t have gotten far.” 

There was murmured agreement. The two cadets waited until the ambush party started to move on before hurrying away. They stumbled over the snow until they found a decent sized freighter to duck into.


	6. 5

Trist stood up, looking at their scratched plans on the floor. Sevens looked up at him. 

“That should do it.” Sevens said.

“Yeah.” Trist nodded and then hesitated. He kneeled and set his helmet on the floor next to their map. Sevens watched him carefully before nodding and doing the same. 

Silently, the two left their helmets and their battle plans, and headed back the way they came. 

They walked silently through the creaking halls of the ship. The whistling of the outside wind echoed forlornly down the tunnels. Trist turned when he heard Seven’s pace slow, then stop. 

“I didn’t look back.” The cadet confided. Trist tilted his head. 

“What do you mean?”

“At Torchy. At C-53. Our friends died and I didn’t look back.” Sevens looked at him desperately and Trist frowned. 

“Me neither.” He confessed. 

“Good Doctor.” He started, “It was like they were waiting for us. How did they know where we were heading? How did they know we were going to try and find her?” His lips trembled. 

“Maybe intel got it wrong.” Trist offered.

“You don’t believe that for a second.”

A pause.

“No. I don’t.” 

Sevens’ expression seemed to crumble. “Tell me. Tell me they weren’t in on this.” Sevens’ voice broke. “Tell me you’re not in on this.”

Trist blinked at him.

“I’m not.” He responded. “I’m in this with you.” 

Sevens ran his hands over his face and laughed. It was not the carefree laugh that sang out when Sevens was winning in hand to hand. It was not the amused chuckle that was often a response to C-53 and Torchy’s banter. It was a wild sound. A strangled sound. Sevens knees seemed to give out from under him and he collapsed into a giggling pile.

“I understand why they discourage friends.” He choked out between his growing barks of laughter. Trist watched him, eyes wide in surprise and horror. “They either die, or try to get you killed.” The laughter was cut off with a sound between a sob and a groan. Trist hurried forward. He kneeled before his friend and gripped his shoulders to steady him. When Sevens began to giggle at him, Trist slapped him. Sevens’ head snapped to the side. 

“Get yourself together Cadet.” Trist snapped. He was sure he sounded less confident than he felt. But at least Sevens had stopped laughing his horrible laugh. Sevens kneeled there, eyes wide in surprise as he stared at the wall. Trist shook him softly.

“We knew what the risks were.” He said, his voice gentler. “We knew as Cadets what would happen if the school found out. We knew they would turn us against each other and we did it anyway.” Sevens had turned his head to study Trist. “We knew that we were taking a risk when we decided to be friends. We had an idea of what we were getting into.”

“Nothing like this.” Sevens whispered, his gaze still on the wall of the tunnel. Trist frowned at him. 

“Really? You really think that? Do you remember what happened to Sticks and Flint?” It was Sevens’ turn to frown. The school had found out about their mutual friendship and trust. No one knew who exactly orchestrated it, but Flint was found dead in the courtyard and Sticks spent a month in Medical. “Or what about Rivers?” Another cadet who had been lead into an ambush by the group she ran with. She was discharged from the academy due to her injuries. 

Sevens pushed Trist’s hands away from him, his mind far away.

“We were lucky.” He said dully. “We weren’t caught.”

“We were careful.” Trist corrected him quietly. He helped Sevens rise and they stood in silence. 

“We need to hold a vigil.” Sevens murmured.   
“We will.” Trist promised. Sevens turned to move on, took a few steps, and stopped again.

“Good Doctor.” His voice was small and child like. 

“Hm?”

“If I don’t make it, will you stand in the vigil for me?” 

“Do you even need to ask?”

Sevens chuckled. “For some reason, I feel a little bit better.” He shook his head. “Come on then.”


	7. 6

Trist shook his head at his friend and followed him out of the mouth of the ship. They vanished before the moonlight touched them. Quietly ghosting over the snow, the two passed the place where Torchy fell. Trist was thankful that the snow had blown over his body.

The two scouted the area, looking for footprints, following trails that looped around each other and then back again. Finally, the footsteps converged into a large group, giving the two cadets something to go off of. 

They followed the indents, hiding their own tracks in them. Sevens motioned at Trist and they picked up their pace. Soon, voices could be heard. 

“Well, at least our intel was right.” One was saying. “We dropped those Imp spies like flies.” 

“Nice hitting the big one with the stun dart.”

“Yeah, did you see him go down?”

Trist felt his blood boil. Torchy could take down a building with a single bomb and leave no trace of the explosives.

“Fucker took my arm off with that grenade though.”

“What about that sniper?”

“I’m surprised! She barely put up a fight.” 

Again, Trist felt anger flood through him. C-53 could hit the wings off a beetle that was 50 feet away. He turned to gauge Sevens’ reaction and felt his anger to turn to panic. Sevens wasn’t there. In fact, he couldn’t find a trace of Sevens anywhere. 

“If only we could get the other two. That skinny one didn’t look like much, but we all know that the medic has to go down fir-”

The trooper was caught off guard with a long knife sticking out of his chest. Trist would never forget the way Sevens looked, standing over the man that had helped kill his friends. The bright moon illuminated his body, bathing him in silver. He stood strikingly against the brilliant, star filled sky. 

Time stood still as crimson welled up at the base of the blade. It trailed achingly slow along the edge before falling, glittering, to the ground. When the trooper’s blood burned a hole in the snow, it was as if a switch was flipped.

Sevens vanished as the soldiers jumped at him. Trist was on the move too, keeping pace with his friend, ducking under blasters and around vibroknives. Scanner in one hand, the other hand signaling probes to keep the other man’s health up. 

Trist skidded to a halt as one of the troopers cried out. The trooper yanked a blaster cannon from his back and held it high in the air. 

Sevens stood over the bodies of the men he had killed, his red eyes narrowed. He sucked in a breath and roared a challenge at the man. It was a phrase he had heard his friend issue definitely in the training yard. A challenge that came forth when he knew that he was going to end in medical with a bleeding lip and a new scar. A challenge in the face of loss. 

The blaster cannon answered. 

Trist gasped in horror as he watched round after round make Seven’s body jerk and twitch unnaturally before he dropped, steaming, into the snow. He blinked at his friend’s body before looking up at the men around him.

They were staring at him, helmets expressionless. Bodies tense and wary. 

Trist acted first. He overloaded his stealth generator and instead of running away, like the men were expecting, he ran towards them. Holding his breath, the cadet passed the ranks. His only thought: escape. 

He ducked from shadow to shadow. From the shade of a busted wing, to the warped hull of ship, to under scattered debris. He kept moving, unsure if the troopers were giving chase or if they were still there, just wanting to put as much distance between himself and the troopers as he could. 

Trist found a section of a freighter and ducked inside it, crouching low under the fallen beams. He watched the sky go from the black blue, to the reds and yellows that faded into the bright blue of morning. However, he feared facing the repercussions of returning alone and with a failed mission. 

Running a hand over his face, Trist deactivated his stealth generator. The only sounds that he could hear were that of Hoth. The wind danced between the wrecks. The animals breathed and called to each other in the distance. Time to review the mission. 

Trajectory: Unknown. Schedules: Irregular. Motives: Unknown. 

Trist sighed and stealthed himself again. He needed those two missing pieces. Going back without them wasn’t an option. 

Falling into a crouch, the cadet snuck from his hiding spot. The troopers seemed to be on a northern trajectory from where they had killed C-53 and Torchy. He headed back to where Sevens had fallen, now presumably buried under the snow, and started north, doing his best not to glance at the place where his friend lay. 

It was a lucky guess. He caught up with the troops about 30 minutes north of the site. They were sitting quietly around a fire, all signs of celebration gone. They had their helmets off, expressions filled with exhaustion and grief. Trist hid in the shadows of a sheet of durasteel. 

There was a beeping sound and the person with the blaster cannon pulled out his holocomm. He had kind eyes. Not the eyes of a man that had helped kill three cadets on their final evaluation. 

“Captain, I hate to do this to you…” The woman said, her voice apologetic.

“Then don’t.” The Captain told her. He grimaced as his tone came out more harshly than he expected.

“You’re close to the Star. The higher ups want that intel.” She said. “Get your boys up and moving.”

“But-”

“Captain, I can’t change their minds. They want to know if there’s anything left.” 

The Captain ran a hand over his face.

“The Star has been scoured over and over again.” He responded, exhaustion in every syllable. “You’d do better having us look for the bits and pieces on the black markets of Tatooine rather than inside the damned thing.”

“Look, they’re lighting a fire under my ass. It’s an order Captain. Get it done.”

Trist heard the captain sigh before he turned back to the troops who were watching him. 

“You heard the lady.” He told them. They groaned collectively and began to complain. The captain silenced them by waving his hands. “Orders are orders. I’m sorry boys.”

One by one, the helmets went back on. The Captain sighed and shook his head before putting his own helmet on.

Trajectory: The Star of Coruscant. Mission: Any intel left on the Star.

The pirates that lived on the ship would hold the troopers off while Trist transmitted the information he needed. He quickly moved away from the group towards his pick-up point. Pulling out his holocomm, Trist delivered his intel and called for extraction. 

Messages delivered, the cadet collapsed in the snow. He barely remembered waking up long enough to board. He was given a day to sleep and to heal, before he was ushered before The Commander in a small office.


	8. 7

The Commander made him wait before speaking. Trist didn’t have the energy to be nervous. In fact, he felt a spark of irritation. 

“It seems you alone were successful in your mission.” The Commander told him, looking over a datapad. “On top of that, your performance was highly satisfactory.” 

“Excuse me? Sir?”

The Commander rose and stepped around the desk. 

“You were able to figure out what the Republic was up to, and get us the information in a timely manner that allowed our operatives to steps in and act. You did not engage the enemy, as ordered, and kept your teammates alive 20% longer than most medical cadets as well as returning the intel 35% faster than most.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, what?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Just then you made it sound like… Has this happened before?”

“This is always the evaluation.”

“A scouting mission, or an ambush?” Trist heard his voice turn cold.

The words hung between the two of them. A smirk on The Commander’s face gave the answer. 

“You sent us there to die.”

“No. We sent you there to do a job. What is the very first rule we teach you?”

“Trust no one.”

“Exactly. You might get a job one day that is supposed to be something simple and turns into a run for your life.” As The Commander spoke, Trist felt a peculiar feeling spreading through his body. It was like fire. Starting in his fingers and moving its way inward. When it passed, it left a numb tingling.

“What about the others?” Trist asked.

“They failed. They will be replaced.”

“Replaced. Will there even be a vigil for them?”

“Why would we hold a vigil for failures?”

Those words took the breath from Trist’s lungs when the realization hit him. They were all replaceable. It didn’t matter how good they were. It didn’t matter how hard they worked. If they failed, they would be replaced. If they failed, they would be forgotten. 

All that mattered was the job.

“And… the ambush. Was that a setup?” Trist met The Commander’s eyes. “Did you tell them?”

The Commander looked at Trist with the look a teacher gets when explaining a simple problem for the millionth time.

“Cadet. How could it have been us? We were in the air or here in the Academy. It could have been your sniper or one of your operatives. They could have easily signaled the Republic when you touched down.”

Trist scanned his memory. C53 had vanished every now and again as they scouted. Torchy was unusually quiet and went down too fast… and Sevens…

Trist felt his body turn and head for the door. How could he have looked up to a man like that?

He didn’t hear The Commander calling after him. He didn’t hear the door slide shut behind him. His thoughts pounded in his ears as clear as if he were shouting at himself.

He knew The Commander was right. It could have been any of his friends. It could have been any of his teachers. It could have been the Commander himself.

Trist shook his head. It didn’t matter now. It-

Something seemed to click into place.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the job. Not what you did outside of it. Not who you cared about. Not how you or anyone else feels. As long as the job gets done and done well.

Trist began to laugh. He was sure he must have looked manic to the passing cadets and teachers. He stood in the middle of the hallway and laughed until tears were streaming down his face.

Then, as abruptly as he started, he stopped and marched off, past staring classmates, out of the academy, and straight into the sleeziest cantina he could find.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up in an alleyway with the worst hangover he ever had, and to an empty wallet. 

After throwing up copious amounts of whatever he had consumed the night before, spitting the taste of acid from his mouth, and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the cadet wondered what time it was. With a shrug, realizing he didn’t much care, the almost graduated cadet meandered lazily back to the academy.


	9. 8

Upon arriving, Trist did not report in. In fact, he took the scenic route back to the dorm. He enjoyed a nice, long shower and dressed in clean clothes before strolling to the conference room, feeling light from his realization of the day before.

Talking stopped when he entered the room and lazily saluted those that were gathered there. 

Brows furrowed in distaste at the action.

“2057, you're late.” His advisor commented. Trist nodded and sank into one of high backed chairs. He leaned back in it, bouncing slightly. 

Eyes narrowed as an irritating squeaking filled the room. Trist watched his advisor with a polite expression, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort he was causing. His advisor sighed. 

“Now that you're here, we can begin your- will you stop that?!”

Trist, leaning back, blinked at the man before slowly returning the chair to its upright position. The accompanying squeak being drawn out with the length of the movement. He slid forward and folded his hands on the table, cocking his head to the side, and demonstrating the epitome of innocence. The advisor cleared his throat, eyeing the cadet warily.

“Yes, well. We can begin discussing your future. You will be graduating with top marks. Not just from your studies but from your evaluation as well.”

Trist felt his expression harden. His advisor smirked. 

“We will let you know where your assignments will be. I suggest you use the rest of this week to prepare for travel. You will know your destination in three days time.”

“Is that all?” Trist asked them. The group blinked at him. 

“Yes Cadet. Dismissed.” 

Trist pushed himself out of the chair and was heading out of the room before his advisor had finished speaking.


	10. Prologue

Over the next few days, Trist ignored the rumors and whispers that swirled around him. His sudden change in personality induced fear in those readying to take their final evaluation and baffled his teachers. Eyes tightened when he passed, and people he had been friendly with scurried away as he approached.

“2057!” Trist turned at the sound of his number. A cadet was walking towards him, expression guarded. “You're needed in conference room 23.” 

Trist blinked at him before grinning and clapping him on the shoulder. “Sounds good.” The cadet looked dazed as he watched the man trot away. 

“2057, we have decided on your placement for your trial years.” The advisor told him, watching Trist sway in the chair, a frown on his lips. 

“That's good. Where are you sending me? Csilla? The colonies?”

The red eyes followed him as he moved.

“Neither, actually.” Trist stopped his swaying and cocked his head to the side.

“Oh?”

“You're assigned to Imperial Intelligence. You'll be leaving this evening for Dromund Kaas.”

“Okay.”

“Excuse me?”

Trist slowly stood from his seat and saluted.

“Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir, for the opportunity to serve the Ascendency. Is there anything else you have need of me, Sir?”

“Less attitude, Cadet. Dismissed.”

Trist grinned at his superior and saluted again before leaving. 

It took all of an hour and a half to pack the meager room they supplied him with. Books and other knick-knacks all fit into a small backpack. His clothes into a travel bag. When he was done, the room looked almost exactly the same as it had been before: gray, small, and empty. Trist, surprisingly, felt a little sad. This had been his safe haven for a long time. It was the one place he could return to. 

He left without looking back.


End file.
